


Imprisoned

by Daughterofthenorth



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age 4 - Fandom, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age - Freeform, Dragon Age Inquisition, Lost Love, Love, May The Dread Wolf Take You, Romance, Solavallen Hell, Solavellan, Tension, The Dread Wolf Rises, Tragic Romance, dragon age 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 06:21:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughterofthenorth/pseuds/Daughterofthenorth
Summary: Here is a tiny little ficlet. Scene. What have you... full of feels.The Inquisitor is captured and imprisoned some years after Trespasser by agents of Fen'harel and his mistress. Feels ensue...





	Imprisoned

My footsteps reverberated across the stone holdings, which despite being a prison, glittered with the promise of elven architecture. It had been sometime since anything appeared somewhat extraordinary. The way it felt when Solas first directed my hand toward a rift as his magic occupied every available space within me. Or any moment that followed… Steeped in adventure, wrapped in the fail safe of Bull’s unfailing perspective and the unknowing fate of Thedas. 

                “Enter,” an elven palm propelled me forward. 

I walked in slowly, before turning to survey my capturer. She was young. Even in the grey tones of washed light, her eyes shone bright. I missed that feeling—the one she was feeling now. A kind of unbridled power that has not yet been broken by time. “He wanted me to extend his apologies. Please know that he is deeply sorry it has come to this.”

I smirked, surveying the small confines of my new quarters. A small bed. A small window… One book lying face down on the floor.

                “He is always  _deeply sorry_ ,” the comment was fatigued.

                “Do you know what they call me?” her posture erected. “Tamlan.”

I smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed.

                “ _Mistress_ ,” I translated, “of the dread wolf, I presume?” she did not counter. “You do realize the term “mistress” implies you are second to whomever he is first bound to,” I peered up from the floor in complete calm.

                “He is first married to his people. To Mythal!”

“Ha,” I choked back a laugh, feeling my foundation compromised. “That is a beautiful theory,” all amusement faded. “But his vow is to himself and himself alone. Pride has a way of assuring this inevitable conclusion.” Tamlan said nothing. “Oh, you thought I was referring to _me_.” I glanced toward my missing appendage, then to her. “When I lost the extension of his power _and him_ , it seemed fitting it should be removed. In the very least there was something to show for how I was feeling. I know who I am to him, Tamlan, and have been through too much to be emotionally intimidated by one whose waters are still and uncharted." Her eyes remained fixed. " _In truth_ , I am overjoyed he found you. I am often fearful he wastes away in a certain darkness that could never be shared.”

Tamlan’s age kept her from moving, much the way a child bides by his parent’s instruction.

                “What did he call me when he bid you to deliver his apology? _Inquisitor_? _Lavellan_?”

Her eyes met mine in a fearful upshot. “Vhenan. He called you _Vhenan_.”

I sighed delicately. “You do know they will come for me.”

                “He is counting on it.”

                “He will come for me too,” I added, washing the young girl in a confidence that only comes with time. “Solas is my…” there was no word for what he meant to me or what we meant to each other. I called it like it was “my _choice_ , and I _choose_ to fight for him. Against Red Lyrium. Against the eradication of all life because HE taught me that life has intrinsic value. I will fight him against himself! Against the wolf that eats him alive! Because I love him enough to not let history paint him a monster… ”

                “If he succeeds, history will paint him a god.”

                “Tamlan, the king of freemen is just another king. The savior of elves, another god. Wisdom is Pride. Be wary, Solas is _my friend_ , but he is your master.”

                “ _It doesn’t matter_ … I know what I am fighting for.”

                “But do you know what you are fighting against?” she remained unmoved. “All masters require their subjects to do their will, Tamlan. Yours requires you to die for your lineage to be reborn! But it won’t sate him. This is yet another bandage to cover and cure the first wound, and the second, and when it does not work, when he sees it truly cannot be mended—when he begins to feel things, he will tear it all down and try again. It is what the wolf does.”

                “You seem to forget where you are, Inquisitor. What can you possibly accomplish from in here?” she compensated fear with volume.  

                “You should be inquiring as to what I have already accomplished,” I rose to my feet in time to hear the soft song of a raven fade from the prison window. “There is only one line that has been drawn and it is the one that divides you from me. The reality of those seek who destroy the world by imprisoning those who wish to save it.”

Tamlan closed the cell door hastily to repel my words from seeping further. We sat in the momentary interruption of metal pushing against itself to hold me in.

                “ _Every great war has its heroes_ , Tamlan,” she paused in the dim light. “ _I am just curious what kind you’ll be_.”

               "The kind that is content to let the world unfold. You cannot capture the heart of a wolf," Tamlen cooly remarked. 

"Well then, where does that leave you?" I crept towards the bars. Tamlen slowly turned. "I am the heart of the wolf... And creators help you... If I am ever truly free." 


End file.
